Page 23 of The Duke and the Runaway Bride

“All right,” Beatrice said softly. “Thank you, Your Grace.”

Before she turned to leave, she looked up at Edwin, and while he expected to see her lust, he saw something else. He couldn’t quite decipher the new look in her eyes, but it was akin to acceptance. Perhaps acceptance of her new life.

He knew it was not easy for her, but it was not easy for him either. If he could have done it another way, he would have. Their life together would take some getting used to, but he felt a difference during his time with her.

The Duke enjoyed the way her hips swayed from side to side as she sashayed out of the room, and he imagined his hands on them as he kissed her neck. He might have had a good life with Agnes if they had wed, but during their time together, he had never wished to get to know her better. Beatrice caught his interest in some way, and he wanted to know who she was before he explored her intimately.

ChapterNine

Hopes And Dreams

Beatrice removed her dress and laid it beside the bed. Her breathing quickened, knowing the door could open at any time. She hoped it would open soon and she could do what she had come to do. As she got into the large bed, she looked around the room. The Earl of Pemberton’s room was luxurious and decadent, and she could not help but scan every inch of it.

She had been in there for less than a minute when she heard the doorknob rattle, and her heart jumped into her throat. She had on her shift and was covered with a thick cotton blanket, but she felt exposed. She pulled the blanket up to her chin as she waited for the Earl.

When the door was pushed open, she didn’t see the Earl. Instead, the Duke of Walford stood in the doorway, a burning intensity glowing in his eyes. He looked straight toward the bed as if he had come searching for her and the Earl’s bedroom was the most logical place to look.

The fire in his eyes had dimmed, but in the embers was the lustful look of a wild animal chasing down its prey. Beatrice was the prey, but she gave herself willingly to the devilishly handsome man as he gazed upon her. She did not move or reveal herself, but she met his fiery gaze with a softness intended to douse the flames. Her inactivity said one thing: come to me and take me.

The Duke fully entered the room and closed the door behind him. As soon as it clicked shut, Beatrice forgot entirely why she was there. She could not remember anything that happened before the door opened, and in the deep waters of lost memory, she bathed herself. Nothing mattered when a handsome man was undressing before her.

Still, she did not let go of the blankets. Beatrice did not feel shy, but she kept her modesty for now. It almost made her giggle to see the Duke lose his. The shirt came off, and she pulled the blankets up to stifle a gasp. Her eyes fixed on his chest, and in her own chest, a warmth rose and fell in time with her breathing.

It was not only in her chest. Feelings were coursing through her body and blooming like wildflowers in spring. Small explosions of soft passion burst forth from within, making goose pimples spread across her skin.

When his trousers were dropped to the floor, Beatrice almost lost her composure. She had to keep it for… she did not remember what for, now that the Duke was almost completely naked before her. His undergarments dropped, and she quickly averted her gaze, unable to cope with the newest revelation. She buried her head in the blankets, unable to calm her heartbeat or slow her breathing.

She had orchestrated the situation but was not in control of it.

The blankets shifted, and she whimpered softly. She gripped the covers until her knuckles turned white, not daring to look at the man climbing into the bed. She pulled the blankets over her head, unsure if she should climb out of the bed and leave the room. She needed to?—

Her immediate thoughts were interrupted by his touch. It was not a gentle caress or a single finger drawn across her almost bare skin, but a hand claiming her midriff. Tingles shot across her body, ending in her fingers and toes. Beatrice squeezed her eyes shut, not daring to acknowledge the pleasure running through her veins. Every instinct told her to get out of there, but her body betrayed her.

No, it did not betray her, because her heart and mind wanted exactly the same thing. She wanted his pleasure, needed it. She tried not to show how nervous she was, frozen in place. She only focused on his touch, as if it were the only thing in the world. If she were able to think about it, she would have realized it was the only thing in the world. She had forgotten where she was and why she was there—she barely remembered her own name.

His other hand trailed down her thigh until it found the hem of her shift, and then he lifted it over her head. It was terrifying and completely natural at the same time. She was not ready to be with a man, but Edwin was different. Still, she kept her eyes closed.

As soon as the thin undergarment was removed and her creamy body was bare, the Duke’s hands roved over her again. They found curves and valleys, small mountains, and flat plains. They raked over her as if they had done it a thousand times, and it was the most wonderful feeling Beatrice had ever felt—she wished to feel it a thousand more times.

Then his body was on hers, and she did not think the warmth was possible. His skin was burning, but then it cooled. His arms took her in his embrace, and though she knew him to be a cruel man, she felt safe with him. She was comfortable and cautious. His hands went to her more intimate parts, and everything became a blur. His hands moved so quickly as to cover her entire body at once, and her lips ached to touch his without ever finding them.

There was a dam, an old wooden structure holding back too much water. The water was warm and non-threatening, but Beatrice needed to hold it back. She did not know what would happen if the dam broke, but it was too much to imagine. Too pleasurable?

She fought against it, each moment of rebellion making her want it more. She knew she had to fight back against what was coming, but it was hard when she knew that the relief to come was the greatest feeling she would ever experience.

Clarity flashed in her mind—she knew the next moment would decide her fate, and she knew she could not hold out any longer. Not against the Duke. So, she relaxed her body and accepted him. The dam broke, and the water gushed forth, covering her with its intensity, and she was washed away into?—

Beatrice woke up with a start.

She did not know where she was, but she knew what she was feeling. Her face was hot, and she could feel the blush blooming in her cheeks. She sat up in bed, trying to figure out why her chest was heaving and her heart was pounding. There had been water and pleasure, and the Duke was there. And did he?—?

She placed the back of her hand on her head as she gripped onto the dissipating dream. She was with the Duke, and he was… touching her. Beatrice moved both hands to her cheeks as they reddened further. She couldn’t quite remember what he had been doing anymore, but she suddenly needed him to touch her now.

She got out of bed and went to the pitcher of water on the dresser. She knew where she was now—the bedroom assigned to her by the Duke. The bare walls reminded her. She splashed her burning cheeks with water. But with her body moving, she realized it was not only her cheeks that were burning with desire.

Suddenly, a knock sounded at the door, startling her. It had come from the main door and not the one connecting her room to the Duke’s. Still, Beatrice worried that her husband had come to finish what he had started in her dream, and she did not want him to see her in her current state, no matter how much she desired his touch.

“Yes?” she called.

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